


Hold Out Your Hand

by casuallyneurotic



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Nightmares, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), currently anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casuallyneurotic/pseuds/casuallyneurotic
Summary: Crowley has always dealt with his bad days by sleeping, sometimes for years. But now that he and Aziraphale have stopped dancing around each other, the angel is there to make him feel better.Just a short little look into a day in the lives of Aziraphale and Crowley after the not-ocalypse.





	Hold Out Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! The following is pure fluff and hurt comfort, plus a little bit of my own... analysis? I guess? of how the ineffable husbands relationship might work. Enjoy!

“How are you faring, my dear?”

Crowley opened one eye a smidge, but his bleary focus didn’t rest on the angel. “M’fine.” His voice was low. He tucked his face away, back into the couch. He’d come down from bed this morning and had firmly planted himself there, giving no indication that he planned on moving any time soon. Thus far, he’d resisted Aziraphale’s attempts at conversation. 

The angel sighed. Crowley had bad days, sometimes. He knew this. He’d known this for thousands of years. Of course, up until very recently, Crowley had simply slept away those bad days and Aziraphale had never caught anything but the first signs or the tail ends of these episodes of melancholy. 

Now, though, it was different. Now the threat of war was past, and neither of them had higher-ups to answer to. Now they could spend their days together without pretense. It was months - almost a year - after the end of the world _didn’t _happen, and they were slowly falling into each other’s spaces, hesitant and careful but excited, _ready_ for the next step. 

They’d talked of moving in together. Of finding a home out in the country, of gardens, of home libraries. They’d spoken of sunny windows and local bakeries, of couches and beds and oversized bathtubs. And all the while they’d grown more confident, more forward, more willing to be vulnerable and happy and sad and angry around one another; all the while they’d slowly been chipping away at the old fears that told them if they moved too far or too fast they’d lose one another forever. 

And now, Crowley was having a bad day. And he was letting Aziraphale witness it. 

The angel’s heart was saddened for the demon, but at the same time, he felt honored at the trust being placed in him. He knew that a nightmare had set this off – his friend had the telltale bags under his eyes that indicated his sleep had been disrupted. Aziraphale wished that he’d agreed to go to sleep with him last night. He’d been doing so off and on for a while, but he’d chosen to stay up and read instead.

He tutted, tucking a blanket that had the good sense to be warm and fluffy around his demon. Crowley didn’t move much, didn’t respond. He just curled a little closer to the back of the couch in the upstairs of the bookshop, his arms tightening around his chest like he was trying to hold something fragile inside of himself. 

“Crowley, may I sit with you?”

The demon scoffed, not looking up. “Your couch. Don’t hav’ta ask.”

“All the same.”

It was a long time before he answered. “...Yes.” Almost a whisper. 

Aziraphale’s shoulders relaxed. He wriggled in underneath his demon, put a pillow in his lap, and tucked him in close. If his wings had been manifested they’d have been covering Crowley completely - as it was, there wasn't really room for it. This would do. “Alright if I touch you, some?”

Crowley’s eyes were closed tightly. When he was feeling particularly insecure, Aziraphale knew, the demon wanted the protection of his glasses. But he hadn’t worn them when he was alone with Aziraphale for months now, and even though it was a bad day he hadn’t wanted to start again. So instead he was hiding them through more traditional means.

Crowley drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. Aziraphale decided to take that as a yes. 

He slid his hand into Crowley’s hair, combing through it with his fingers. It’d gotten long far faster than a human’s hair would grow, all because Aziraphale had casually mentioned that he’d liked Crowley’s hair back when he was still a nanny and Aziraphale was still a gardener. At the time, Crowley had scoffed and informed him that _he _hadn’t missed Aziraphale’s buck teeth, but all the same his hair had grown a half-inch a day until it was long and wavy again. Most of the time it was pinned back artfully and stylishly, just so, but this morning it was frizzy and tangled. The result of tossing and turning.

Crowley went limp almost instantly, sighing into the angel’s stomach. He continued to pet, softly skittering the tips of his nails into the demon’s scalp every so often. Working slowly, he detangled knots and swirls of ginger hair. 

Crowley adored this contact, Aziraphale knew. He’d even gotten him drunk enough to admit it, once. The demon had spent a very long time all alone after he’d fallen - hell was not big on comforting touches. To be frank, neither was heaven, but before his assignment on Earth he’d at least had the companionship of other angels, of preening and flying together even if they weren’t particularly close. 

Crowley hadn’t had even that. Aziraphale remembered the first time he’d accidentally touched Crowley - how the demon had shuddered when he’d helped him up from a chair. At the time he’d taken it as disgust for his holiness, but looking back he’d realized that Crowley had simply been unused to physical kindness. He’d made it a goal to subtly give the demon a little more contact, and over the years he’d succeeded to varying degrees. 

But he’d been able to be a lot less subtle lately. A touch lingering here, a brush of his wings there, a caress, a shoulder against a shoulder, a hand in his. Crowley came to him like a moth to a flame, some days, and Aziraphale gladly doled out affection in great, heaping scoops. 

When he was like this, though, he was sometimes flighty. Skittish, like a dog that had been kicked one time too many. And so Aziraphale took it slow and always asked before he put a hand on his oldest and best friend. 

“May I touch you a bit more, my dear?”

A slow, tired nod. Aziraphale smiled a bit sadly and cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand. The demon leaned into it, his eyes opening a fraction, and Aziraphale counted that as a victory. 

“How can I help you, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked gently. He delicately swiped a bit moisture off his demon’s cheek, saying nothing about it. 

“Just…” Crowley closed his eyes again, but this time it more for weariness and less for fear. He sighed. “Just this, Angel.”

This, he could do. 

It was well into the evening before Crowley stirred. He slowly sat up, leaning heavily against Aziraphale like he did when it was a little too cold outside. Then, to the angel’s delight, he shuffled around until he was kneeling on either side of Aziraphale’s lap, chin hooked over the angel’s shoulder and a long arm tucked around his soft waist. His fingers curled into the fabric of Aziraphale’s coat.

A thank you, of a sorts. 

Aziraphale took the opportunity to hold the demon’s other hand and lightly massage the muscles of his palm. It was soft and warm between their two stomachs. “Whatever did you dream about?”

Sometimes Crowley told him, sometimes he did not. A sigh in his ear ruffled his hair, but Crowley didn’t give him an answer. 

“Was it the fire again?”

The slightest stutter in Crowley’s breath told him he’d hit the mark. “Would it help if we were elsewhere?”

Crowley tightened his hold on the angel. “No. S’nice to know it’s here. Still standin’.”

Aziraphale laced his fingers through Crowley’s own and draped his other hand on the small of his back. “It is. As am I, dearest.”

The demon’s hand squeezed around his.

He turned his head and gently pressed a kiss into Crowley’s temple, and the demon shuddered. Neither of them had yet taken the initiative to make an effort, so to speak, but they’d kissed here and there. Mostly Aziraphale kissed Crowley because it made him shiver and then melt like ice cream. Crowley kissed Aziraphale because it made him “as red as an apple and just as tempting.”

“I love you, Crowley.”

The demon hadn’t gotten used to hearing it yet, and Aziraphale understood. As an angel, he was filled with and surrounded by love - or, at least, some version of it - almost all the time. But as a demon, the only love Crowley had experienced since the fall was the love of his angel. In the early days, they’d seen each other once every few decades; then years, then months, then days. Now it was usually only hours before they were back in each other’s orbits. And Crowley had no idea what to do with the overabundance of love that Aziraphale had - the love the angel stuffed his pockets with, the love he wrapped around the demon like a blanket, the love he fed him and sang to him and whispered to him and the love he wove into every touch and gesture and smile. 

It was enough to make any demon burst into flames - or so Crowley had told him. But the old serpent hadn’t exactly tried to slither away from it. 

Still. When it got to be too much, Crowley didn’t quite know what to do with himself. His response this time was to manifest his beautiful dark wings and circle them around Aziraphale, feathers quivering as he pushed them between the angel’s back and the couch. Protective. Almost possessive.

“Would you mind terribly if we moved to the bedroom?” Aziraphale asked gently. He wanted very much to preen Crowley’s wings, but the couch was a bit too cramped. He blinked and they were there, the snap from Crowley’s fingers ringing in his ears. “Oh. Thank you.” He scooted backwards until he landed on the edge of the bed. 

But Crowley didn’t fall into bed with him as he’d planned. Instead, he slid down to his kneel on the floor and bowed his head till it touched Aziraphale’s knees. His wings arched out low and flat, pressed into the ground in a remarkably intimate show of vulnerability that bordered on pure supplication. 

Aziraphale’s face softened. “Oh, my dear,” he murmured, leaning forward so that he could run both hands through Crowley’s hair. This was worse than he’d originally realized - the nightmare must have been awful. He had a hunch that it had included a bit more than the bookshop fire; perhaps memories of Crowley’s fall. He was always shaken when that came up. “My dear friend. My love.”

_This_ \- the way he was kneeling - this was Crowley’s version of prayer. He’d fallen from grace a long time ago and had lost his faith in the almighty some time after that. He didn’t pray to God anymore, but there were days when Aziraphale felt worshiped by his demon. For a creature that was supposed to be devoid of devotion and faith Crowley was remarkably full of both when it came to his angel. 

He buried his hands into Crowley’s feathers and the demon leaned into his touch. Silently, he slid his fingers through the dark plumage and soothed the invisible wounds there. He kissed the crown of the demon’s head, thumbed his ears, trailed hands down his back. Giving himself to Crowley in the same way that Crowley gave himself to Aziraphale. Making sure the demon knew he didn’t have to beg for his attention - that he would always have it.

When he felt Crowley relax and let loose a breath, he cupped his face and angled him up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I’m here for you, darling,” he said gently, smiling and wiping moisture from overfull eyes. 

“I know,” he croaked. He was pliant when Aziraphale tugged him up on the bed. Sometimes, when he was stressed, Crowley was more snake than man. He wrapped his limbs around Aziraphale like he was holding on for dear life. 

For a long time, Aziraphale just stroked his hair and his cheek. He smiled softly. Perhaps speaking of happier things would take his mind off of it all? “I can’t wait to see the garden you’ll grow, Crowley,” he said happily. “It’s going to be so lush and verdant, I just know it. We’ll be the envy of everyone in the village, don’t you think?”

He could feel the demon’s small, knowing smile as it curled onto his face. He of course knew what Aziraphale was doing, but he was willing to play along. “As long as you have a word with the bloody rabbits, it’ll stay that way.”

“Oh, but I do love rabbits,” Aziraphale said wistfully. “Such beautiful animals. Powerful.”

Crowley scoffed. “Everything _eats_ rabbits.”

“I’ve never seen you eat a rabbit.”

“Angel, _you’ve_ eaten rabbit!”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I think a few rounds with your more slithery form will be enough to keep the whole street pest free.”

This earned him a small laugh, and Aziraphale smiled in victory. “I still can’t believe you let me convince you to be the nanny while I gardened,” he reminisced, grinning. “What a silly thing to do.”

Crowley groaned. “You wouldn’t stop letting the damn slugs eat the petunias. I had to sneak in after-hours and bellow at the plants to get them to behave properly.”

“And I had to convince dear Warlock not to start fires or draw pentagrams in the yard,” the angel remembered fondly. “What _were _you teaching that boy?”

Crowley grinned. “Not maths, I’ll say that.”

“Perhaps a bit of geometry, with the pentagrams,” Aziraphale offered seriously, and they both laughed. 

Crowley loosened his hold on the angel, leaning back some so they could lock eyes. They lay face to face for a long while, just looking. Soaking each other in. 

“Love you.”

“I know you do, dear. And I love you, too.”

Crowley draped a cool hand over his face, fingers twirling into Aziraphale’s curly hair. “M’tired, Angel.”

“Perhaps a bit of a rest, then?”

“Mm.”

Aziraphale laid his hand over Crowley’s own, smiling softly as the demon closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment and tell me what you think! I'd like to add more little snippets that exist in this same universe, so I'd love to hear your ideas.


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